


Bad Intel

by rangerofdiscord



Series: Chasing After You - A Series of Allison/Leonard Drabbles [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M, Some angst, slight mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:19:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11001093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rangerofdiscord/pseuds/rangerofdiscord
Summary: Sometimes bad intel can lead to a lot more than just a few wounds.





	Bad Intel

The intel was wrong. All wrong.

Allison stood at the terminal in the main hall of the small dormitory. Originally, they had been told there were only seven students needed to be rescued. But now the terminal was telling her there were eight, after they had already evacuated. She stood there, frozen in place, not sure what to do. Her orders were to evacuate, but how could she leave someone behind?

“Private McCoy, get your ass to the shuttles now.” The Corporal shouted at her through the comms, jolting her back into reality. “What the fuck are you standing there for?”

Grabbing her pistol from where it sat on her hip, she made her decision. “With all due respect, sir, I can’t leave yet. Our intel was bad. There’s one more person in this building.” Checking to make sure the ammo was full, she logged off of the terminal and began to head back up the stairs. 

“Private McCoy, your orders are to leave, now. Get out here.”

“Alice?” 

“Fuck, Allison I can’t--”

“Alice.” 

“Shit, shit, shit. How much time do you need?”

“Private Feltner, you do not wait for Private McCoy, do you hear--”

“Give me five minutes, tops.”

“Hurry.” 

“Roger that.” Pulling the earpiece out, so that she wouldn’t be distracted, Allison took the stairs two at a time. The whole place was falling apart, small fires were slowly spreading across the dormitory. Fires started by the Insurrection.

The UNSC had gotten intel saying that the Insurrection was going to try to take out a small dormitory that held the brightest students in their experimental AI program. By the time the small strike team had gotten there, the Insurrectionists were already inside. A quick firefight, and the hostages were safely on Pelicans, waiting for evac.

All except for one. How the fuck had they missed him? She had sworn they had checked every room, but perhaps Alice or Corporal Marshall had missed one. It wouldn’t have surprised her, as praised as Marshall was, he didn’t care too much for the UNSC’s ops on Earth. And Alice was Alice. 

Reaching the top floor, Allison swung herself around and rushed down to the last door at the end of the hall, which was supposed to house the eighth student. The door was slightly ajar, and she pulled her weapon up, pointing it, ready for anything. 

Bam. 

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the hall, and she swore loudly, kicking the door to the side. She had put her career on the line in the hopes of getting the kid out alive, and if some fucked up asshole had ruined that, then-- 

A tall, bulky man dressed in black fell to the floor at her feet, blood gushing from a shot to the throat. Staring at him in surprise, she looked up to see a lanky, jet-black haired man across from her, holding a pistol up at her. On his hip, the handle of a hunting knife stuck out, blood slowly dripping from the entrance wound. 

It was Private Church. He was sweating profusely, and looked scared out of his mind.

Putting her hands up slowly, Allison glanced down at the UNSC insignia across her chest before looking back up at him. “Private Church. It’s me, Allison. From Basic, remember?” A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and the gun started to tip down. But people in stressful situations were prone to anything, so she went on, “I’m here to get you out of here, we have Pelicans waiting outside. Can you walk?”

“I don’t-- I can’t-- Fuck.” The pistol dropped, and she stepped across the dead body, arms at her waist now. “Is he dead?” 

“Yes. That wasn’t the question I asked.” She was taller than him by a few inches, and now she looked down at him. Had she not been amped up on adrenaline, she might have taken the time to notice how much he had changed in a year, but her primary focus was survival. “Can you walk? We only have a few minutes.” 

“I don’t know, the knife--” She quickly began to realize he was going through shock. From the injury, or killing someone, or both, she couldn’t say. 

“I won’t take it out, if I do you’ll start bleeding more. Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”

He looked up at her, pain filling his eyes. “It fucking hurts, Allison.”

She gave him a quick look, and knew that he was in no condition to run down the three flights of stairs. There was only one choice, but it left her open for any other potential attacks. But she couldn’t leave him there, and they only had a limited amount of time.   
Lifting him by his underarms suddenly, Allison tossed Private Church over her shoulder, both arms holding onto his legs and arms. 

“Fuck, ouch, what the fuck--”

“Shut the fuck up, and try to let me know if someone comes at us.” She said, grunting as she walked as fast as she could out of the room. Each step was torture, with the smoke getting worse, and heat from the flames that flickered at the edge of her vision. 

Leonard made grunts of pain, and whines every now and then, as each step jostled his injury even further. Taking deep breaths, Allison did her best to ignore him, focusing on getting down the stairs, then turning, then getting down another flight, and repeat.   
It was slow work, or at least it felt slow. Everything was in slow motion, the fire, the smoke, her breathing, Leonard’s moans of pain. But she was doing it, and the smoke was clearing up and she could see the entrance. Her pace quickened, not even caring that the quicker she moved, the more pain she brought to the man on her shoulders. 

She reached the entrance, and drank in deep gulps of fresh air. Alice’s pelican was still there, the ramp extended and waiting for them. Her muscles were primed, ready to sprint the last few yards, ready to--

Leonard cried out in pain again, this time louder than before, right as a gun went off. It went off two more times, and Allison felt something hit her side, and then her leg. Screaming in pain, she faltered, almost falling. Someone, she had no idea who, grabbed her and began pulling both her and Leonard to the ramps. There was another sound of a gunshot, and then just shouting.

Numbly, she tried to help them, moving her legs in the way she figured they should work, despite the sudden, burning pain. Dull clanks against metal sounded as they made their way up the ramp, and then it closed as the Pelican prepared to take off. Leonard fell off of her shoulders, onto the ground, whimpering in pain. 

Kneeling next to him, she reached out for something, anything to help him. The same person who had helped her earlier put a shot of painkillers in her hands, directing her to where she should stab him with it. 

Another person began to fashion a tourniquet from their shirt, and it was only then that Allison realized that Leonard had been shot too, right below the knife injury. His eyes were half closed, sweat beading on his forehead, and he blindly reached out for something. 

Taking his hand, she collapsed next to him. Someone stabbed her with a needle, injecting painkillers into her body and suddenly the pain from the bullets lodged in her side and leg went away slowly. She had done it. She had gotten him out. Now he just had to survive. 

“C’mon, Leonard.” She heard herself saying, dimly. “Stay with me, c’mon.” His palms were clammy, and she squeezed his hand gently. There were people saying things to her, someone shouted, but she couldn’t hear them. Nothing else really mattered, just as long as Leonard made it, it was all worth it. 

The darkness began to seize her, edging around her peripheral vision. Closing her eyes, she muttered one last “Gotta make it” before passing out altogether.


End file.
